Thank You for Loving Me
by Hoshiko
Summary: Shinobu writes Mitsuru a letter...


Thank You for Loving Me

Inspired by Bon Jovi's song, "Thank You for Loving Me"

**Thank You for Loving Me**

Words have always been my friend, it seems. They come so easily to me, allowing me to twist others around my little finger with laughable ease. With only a few carefully chosen words, I could have anything I wanted, anything I desired.

So then why do I bother to sit down at this desk, pen clutched in hand, staring helplessly at a blank sheet of paper? Why do my eyes burn from lack of sleep, and my mouth taste like the underside of a dumpster?

Perhaps it's because words manage to fail me when I need them the most. Perhaps it's because I'm so very tired of ignoring the feelings within me. Perhaps it's because of the burning ache deep in my chest every time I look at you and I see the pain in your eyes.

Do you know, I wonder, how much it hurts me to see you smile through the pain? Do you know what I would do to make that smile reach your eyes? Do you know how badly I want to reach out and simply _touch_you?

Not a pat on the back, or a friendly arm around your shoulder, but to hold you in my arms. To feel the beat of your heart against my skin.

I would give anything, and everything, to be the one to wash the pain away. I would gladly give away my skill with words, if only I could know you would be happy. And not for a moment, but forever.

I'll bet you never suspected I was a romantic at heart, did you?

But I am, and that's part of the reason why I'm sitting here right now, listening to your quiet breathing.

I love to tease you about your snoring, but you don't. Not really.

And even if you did, I don't think that I would mind all that much. Not if what I feel for you is what I think it is.

I'm not quite sure when it was these feelings came into being…maybe they were always there, but I never noticed them. Or maybe I didn't _want_ to notice them.

If I acknowledged those feelings that would mean that I was just as human as you. That I was just as fragile, as vulnerable as you, and that was the one thing that I didn't want.

I didn't want to feel. Not the way you do.

I've stood back and watched you throw your heart into so many things, only to be hurt because of it over and over again. I've hung back, and allowed you to rush into situations a lesser man would think twice about – of which I am one. A lesser man, I mean.

I used to think that _you_ were the fool, the idiot for believing so strongly in people. I used to think that it was madness to want to help someone for no other reason than they needed help. I used to think that you were deliberately setting yourself up for a broken heart, but now I know better.

I realize now that you were only doing what you felt was right. You were only following you heart, and even though there were times I sat with you, helping you pick up the pieces, you never stopped trying. You never gave up. Not on people, and not on me.

Was it because you knew that with pain comes happiness? That you can't have one without the other? Did you know, or were you hoping to find something better?

If you were awake right now, you would probably laugh at me for my foolishness. You'd call me an idiot, the way I'm fretting over the perfect turn of phrase.

But then, that's you, isn't it? You always were a believer that actions spoke louder than words. I can remember a dozen or more occasions when that creed of yours got you into trouble – but I was always there to bail you out, wasn't I? I was always there to smile smugly, satisfied that I was right, and you were wrong.

How was I to know that all this time _I_ was the one who was wrong? How was I to know that it wasn't the end result that mattered so much, as it was the effort – the heart – that went into it?

Yet, you never corrected me, allowing me my precious self-delusions. Allowing me to presume my superiority over you, and all the while you were smiling to yourself at my naïveté.

I look up startled out of my thoughts as you mutter something unintelligible and roll over in your sleep, one of your feet poking out from under your blanket.

How do I know this? I know, because somehow I have turned away from the desk and am watching you sleep. My eyes follow the contours of your body beneath the blanket, a smile tugging at my lips as a tiny scowl crosses your face.

What could you be dreaming of that could cause such an expression? What could cause your brows to crease like that, your lips forming an adorable pout? I want to reach up and smooth the lines in your forehead out, but I can't. Not now, but maybe one day…?

There have been times that I have damned myself for that inborn self-control of mine that others marvel at. They don't understand that it's that same self-control that keeps me from telling you the words that fill my mind tonight.

Words that I know I do not have the strength to say. Words that I have wanted to say for so long, but never had the courage to do so.

Just once, for one night, I wish I could drop all my barriers. I wish I could step outside myself and face you, tell you what you mean to me.

I wish I may, I wish I might…

That's the way the rhyme goes, isn't it? But you need a star to wish on, and the closest thing I have with me is you…

But maybe, if I wish hard enough… If I put all of my heart into it, my wish could come true? If only for this night?

I wish…

But not even all the wishes in the world will do me any good, if I can't tell you everything that I feel for you. Everything that you mean to me.

If you were anyone else, this would be so much easier. If this were only pretend, I could put my thoughts into words so eloquently women would swoon over them. If only this weren't real. If only my heart, my soul, didn't hang in the balance, this would not be so hard.

And maybe that's the point. What is life without risk? Nothing worthwhile was ever accomplished by those who did not put themselves in a precarious position. And nothing worthwhile was ever easy.

Shaking my head at the simplicity of that revelation, I once again take hold of my pen, my hand poised over the paper.

So how do I say this? How do I tell you that you are the guiding star in my night? That you are the one thing I have ever wanted? How do I tell you that you are the second half of my soul?

And then it comes to me.

Something so complex should hardly be summed up in so few words, but my mind can find no alternative for what I have written. There are no flowery words, no silver-tongued phrases.

I want to laugh at the utter simplicity of it all. Had I known it could be so easy, I would have been asleep hours ago.

I bite my lip to keep from making a sound that would wake you. You would not appreciate having your sleep disturbed, and I am still trying to figure out where I stand now.

Tomorrow will come soon enough, and there will be light to see by as you read my letter to you. Perhaps then, I will not need a star to wish on.

As I place my pen on the desk and reach for the light switch, my eyes fall on the words written on the paper:

_ Mitsuru,_

_ Thank you, for loving me._

_ Shinobu_

I feel a smile stretch my face as I flip the light switch and plunge the room in darkness.


End file.
